Chapter Text
One of the reasons why Penelope and Eloise worked so well as roommates was because they both lacked a social battery.
In addition to the fact that Penelope Featherington and Eloise Bridgerton were long-time, childhood best friends, who bathed together during their weekly playdates, or sat together at lunch. Almost everyday. On the days that they didn’t, one of them was probably sick. They barged into each other’s homes at so many points in their lives that their parents saw the other as their own child, more with the Bridgertons for Penelope.
Nonetheless, Penelope and Eloise moved on the same wavelength, moved on the same chord, and moved on the same song. So it made sense that as roommates, they were compatible.
This made flat-sharing at university quite easy. Serene, even. In addition to the fact that they had essentially lived together their entire lives.
But, in the specific case of social outings, social gatherings, the concept of being social, it greatly helped that the two of them would go through great means to avoid small talk.
Penelope quite liked being left alone, whether she came to that conclusion by her own fruition or due to the mistreatment she had experienced throughout her life. Still, she preferred the quiet. She preferred peaceful, small gatherings where she could talk to a person one-on-one or, just be able to talk at all. She liked spaces where she could feel comfortable and accepted enough to be herself and speak her mind.
Eloise did not quite like people, or at least, the people that attended their secondary school, and now, their university. She always found herself scoffing at the snide, “unintelligent” comments that people made around her, and was always one eye-roll away from leaving rooms entirely. Eloise much preferred her small group of trusted friends, of whom she felt had her same morals and values. She could be called vain, but Eloise would rather converse with people she actually liked than force herself to endure ones she couldn't care less about.
Which is why when she came back to Penelope with their coffee orders and asked if she wanted to go to a giant house party, Penelope almost choked on air.
“What?” Eloise asked, confused, setting Penelope’s mocha down in front of her textbook, taking her own seat before ripping open some sugar packets she had grabbed for her cappuccino.
Penelope, after regaining composure, simply stared at her, the words in her textbook completely forgotten.
Eloise got defensive.
“What?” She repeated.
“Have you gotten a fever?”
“Penelope–”
“Do you want me to pick up some medicine on my way back from class?”
“Okay, that’s just rude.”
“Rude? El, have you contracted hysteria?. You want to party ?” Penelope gawked, leaning forward to examine Eloise’s face, searching for any hint of a joke, a jest, but nothing.
“Okay, stop, that's too much.” Eloise shooed, waving her hands in front of her face to push Penelope back. She sighed, taking a sip of her cappuccino which still wasn’t sweet enough. “I don't want to, Pen, but it's not me. It's Colin.”
Oh.
Penelope shouldn't have reacted the way she did at that statement, her body instinctively stilling as that name entered her ear and stomped on her mind.
Colin.
Colin.
Colin was a Bridgerton, Eloise’s older brother, who, objectively, knew Eloise longer than she did. He was a larger part of her life for longer, so Eloise bringing up his name should not have affected her so much.
But, it had. Now, it did even more, in a way that shot ice up Penelope’s spine, contrary to the multi-colored butterflies that she had felt for most of her life.
She was genuinely surprised that the name had not been brought up sooner, considering the fact that Colin started at Oxford two years before they did, and was even expecting their arrival. Colin had always hung around them as children, somewhat to Eloise’s dismay. Eloise despised her older brother bothering her and her friend during playtime, but Penelope, back then, didn’t mind. She did not mind one bit. If Colin Bridgerton wanted to join the two of them while they were coloring a flower, Penelope would have offered him a page and her own crayons.
Now, though, she was grateful for his lack of presence in her life, feeling ever so calm without it.
But, the universe had a tendency to be unkind towards Penelope.
“Colin?” She stared, expression neutral for Eloise’s answer, which her best friend thankfully neglected in favor of searching for another sugar packet to add to her coffee.
“Yeah, he’s having a party at his flat and he wanted me to join.” She explained, placing the empty sugar packet down and stirring her drink.
“You?”
“Well, us . It’s tomorrow. You don’t have work this weekend, right?” She said nonchalantly, taking a sip of her drink before pursing her lips.
“I, uh,” Penelope finally broke out of her gaze and forced it to fall back on her textbook, desperately searching for where she had left off. She tried to piece together a response. “I mean, yeah, I guess.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
“ Wait. El–”
“Oh, do you have a spare toothbrush I can borrow? I think I left mine at Theos, who, by the way, I am not shagging. We’re just mates.” She clarified, glaring at Penelope, prematurely. Penelope just stared back at her, her usual quip fizzling in the air as she simply looked at Eloise, bewildered. “What?”
“I-I dont think I can go…”
“Penelope–”
“It’s just–I hate this kind of stuff, El!”
“Yeah, well so do I, but it's Colin.” She replied, mocking the name Colin simply because it was innate and familial.
Penelope wanted to cry.
“I, I have a paper to write…”
“Pen!” Eloise whined, collapsing into herself as she slouched back into her chair. “Don't make me go to this alone!”
“Eloise–”
“Look, it’ll suck, cause it's my brother and his mates, but at least it’ll suck for us together .”
“Well,” Penelope let out an exasperated sigh, racking her brain for some excuse or solution. “Maybe ask Cressida?”
“She's on a business vacation with her parents.” Eloise interjected, irritatedly sipping from her mug.
“But it's the second week of classes.”
“I know,” Eloise sighed, putting her mug down before staring directly into Penelope’s eyes: she looked determined yet desperate–it was a silent beg. “Pen, don't make me go alone.”
Penelope bit her lip as she stared back at Eloise, her willpower fighting against Eloise’s determination as she tried to find any valid excuse to say no. She really had no reason to say it, at least, to Eloise’s knowledge, and she would like to keep it that way.
So, she couldn’t say no, at least not outright. Eloise would not understand.
“....I’ll think about it.” She finally said, causing Eloise to let out a final sigh of irritation before reluctantly accepting her bon. This was as good as she was going to get.
“Fine!” She took a sip of her cappuccino. “Jesus, why the fuck is this so bitter!”
—--
Edwina and Penelope had developed this tradition, ever since Penelope had arrived at Oxford, that after their shared classics lecture on Tuesdays and Thursdays, they would get pastries at the campus cafe and discuss the lesson.
Or gossip. It was mainly gossip.
“Do you think Fife actually cares for her?” Edwina whispered, giggling as she bit into her almond croissant, wiping the powdered sugar that stuck to her lips.
Penelope smirked, sitting across from Edwina at their designated table, leaning closer so that the couple sitting behind them would not hear her. Although, they seemed too engrossed with each other, looking out the arched window next to them with happy sighs. Even if they were to hear, they undoubtedly already knew. Oxford was an enormous university with over thirty different colleges, but word got around, and any piece of information shared, willingly or unwillingly, would reach the other side of campus by the next morning.
“Hmm, I don't know. But, knowing Fife, I’m sure he’s just stringing her along because, well, he’s Fife.” Penelope whispered, chuckling to herself at the knowledge.
“Do you think it’ll appear in Whistledown, later?”
If gossip did not spread across campus in a night, it would certainly be reported in Whistledown an hour or two later.
A turnaround that Penelope was quite proud of. She had always been a fast writer.
“Probably,” She puffed out, lightly, hiding her pride with a bite of her chocolate croissant, placing it down on the wax sleeve it came in before leaning down and grabbing her laptop from its bag. “But, we’ll just have to see tomorrow. Did you finish your paper for Ms. Vivians, by the way?”
“Almost! I just need to do the citations, which I was gonna hold off until tomorrow, but I’m gonna have to do it tonight.” Edwina said, swallowing down another bite of her croissant and reaching down to fetch her own laptop.
“Ooooh, you have any fancy plans?”
“No. Well, it's just Colin’s houseparty.”
Penelope hoped Edwina was too distracted opening up her Word Doc to notice her face fall.
“Oh.”
“What are you wearing to that, by the way? I haven’t really gone to many society parties but I feel like it would still be going-out clothes. But, I could be wrong so,” When Edwina finally looked up, Penelope’s face was perfectly resolved and appropriate for working on an essay, but it seemed as if her lack of response alerted her. “...Pen?”
“Hm?”
“What’s up?” Edwina asked, voice softly confused.
“Nothing.”
“....okay?”
“Okay.” Penelope replied, flatly, fingers now scurrying across her laptop’s keyboard.
“.....okay,” Edwina said, letting out a tight giggle before opening up her own document. “So, what are you gonna wear?”
Penelope could not find a way to begin her next paragraph, her vocabulary stuck on the word “ Although, ” even though it had already been used three times in this paragraph. She needed to change those later.
“Um…I'm not sure.” She shrugged, scrambling to churn out something more elaborate and not open up Thesaurus.
“Do you want to go thrifting for some outfits later today? I’m sure we’ll find something civil and slutty in town.” Edwina inquired, joking to raise the spirits that seemed tp have drained from Penelope and been replaced with intense academic vigor.
“I’m not so sure, I'm quite behind on this paper.” She responded simply, trying to reason with herself that she can use “Although” four times, if the paragraph’s other contents were eloquent enough.
“…so you have an outfit, then?”
“Yeah”
“Penelope.”
“Hmm?”
“What’s going on?” Edwina finally asked, looking at her friend patiently, her computer screen abandoned.
“Nothings going on.” Penelope plainly said, forcing her eyes to stay on the screen in front of her, reasoning that maybe if she reread this section from the beginning, an alternate word would present itself.
Edwina pursed her lips before ducking her head slightly, her face softening in somewhat of a revelation.
“Are you uncomfortable going to such a big party?”
Agreeing to this was not a lie. Edwina was quite aware of both Penelope’s aversions to parties and Eloise’s distaste for them, especially ones as sweaty and horny as society parties. But since Eloise was the one who mentioned the event—-begged, pleaded, would have probably gone down to her hands and knees if she did not respond fast enough,—-she thought it logical that Penelope was already made aware and herself agreed to attend.
It was a sensible assumption.
“I mean, it's a big, moist , society party.” Penelope grumbled, a slip of genuine disgust coating her tongue as she continued to reread her paragraph. Edwina let out a sharp snicker,
“Moist?”
“Moist. Wet. Someone’s spit and or lower spit is gonna be somewhere.”
“True,” Edwina giggled, softening her shoulders as she eased back in her chair. “But you’ll have El and me! Come on! You guys never go out with me to any sort of event like this!”
She was now pouting at Penelope, eyebrows scrunched and eyes slightly widened, plaintive, and what was damning about Edwina’s pouts was how hard they were to deny. The Sharma’s had a way to make you lament with a single look. Even with Penelope’s gaze half focused on her text, the power of Edwina’s stare softened her resolve.
“Ed….it’s just….a lot to handle. Especially since I have this bloody paper due,” Penelope reasoned, using her hands to direct Edwina’s attention to the laptop that currently held her twenty-page paper, only seven of them filled. “I’ll be stressed out the entire night! And I’ll be even more stressed with a bunch of horny freshers bumping into me while humping someone they met seven seconds ago.”
Edwina hummed in response, nodding her head as she pondered for a moment.
“I mean, if it becomes too much, you could always destress in Colin’s room.”
Penelope felt her breath catch in her throat and her fingers twitch; fuck.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” she continued, unresponsive to Penelope’s change in resolve. “I’m sure he’ll comfort you if a sweaty eighteen year old spits on you.” She giggled at the idea, while Penelope felt her mind drift. “He always does!”
She was right, to a point. For a large portion of her life, in-between her and Eloise’s constant playdates and sleepovers, Colin was there to offer her another form of comfort, of friendship, of….love, as Penelope had believed it.
Even when Penelope was young and she believed love to be what you feel when you see an adorable puppy at a park, or simply something that happened to princesses in her storybooks, Penelope had always felt something akin to that love with Colin.
She had felt it when she was six and Colin was eight-years old, when the bright colored bonnet that her mother had demanded she wore smacked Colin right in the face and forced him to tumble out of his bike.
He fell directly into a pile of mud right near her, and Penelope remembered the feeling of her cheeks burning at a temperature she had only felt when she had a fever, her mouth spewing out numerous apologies and pleas for forgiveness. She was fighting the feeling of pressure in her eyes as she held back a flood of tears. She was mortified, not only because her mother was going to scream at her, but she had hurt this older boy, and he was surely going to be very angry at her.
However, this older boy, pushing himself up from the ground with a groan, met Penelope with a wide smile, toothy and charming and so very kind.
“Well, that wasn’t very good of me, was it?” He chuckled, deep blue eyes that Penelope only recalled seeing in the most beautiful of aquariums, staring back at her. Her little hand was clenching the bottom of her bright orange dress as she took in the boy's demeanor, studying him in awe. How can a boy, who she had just injured, say something that made her, the girl unharmed, feel so warm?
“Are you alright, Miss….”
“Penelope.”
“Penelope….?”
“Featherington!”
“Well, Miss Featherington, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance! I am Colin Bridgerton!”
She felt it when she was ten and Colin was twelve-years old, moment’s after Cressida Cowper–before she reformed–spilled chocolate milk on the pink dress she was finally able to wear to a family-friend gathering, staining the sequined dress with the most disgusting shade of brown. She ran away with hot tears streaming down her face and uneven hiccups leaving her lips.
That is how Colin found her. She hid in the Bridgertons family garden because she knew no one would find her but Colin did.
Colin always did.
He leaned down to her with a soft smile and a gorgeous pink sweater in his hand.
“Here,” he said, holding out the soft material for Penelope to take. “It may be a bit too big for you, but it's almost the same color as your dress.”
“Whose is this?” She asked between hiccups, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Mine, but please wear it. I don’t mind, and neither would Mum.” He whispered, before getting on his knees and leaning closer to Penelope. “Cressida is a mean witch. We should throw water on her and see if she melts.”
“Colin!” She exclaimed, giggling as Colin smirked cheekily at her reaction, his shoulders easing.
“Don’t mind her at all, Pen. She just knows that your dress was better than hers.”
She felt it when she was sixteen and Colin was eighteen-years old, and her father had passed away the night before.
For most of that day, Eloise had made it her mission to be at Penelope’s side, leaving her only when either had to relieve themselves. She valiantly sat beside her while the two watched as Gregory and Hyacinth, eleven and nine at the time, respectfully, ran around the field, Hyacinth chasing Gregory while he had her favorite stuffed bear in his hand, evading her with a maniacal chuckle. Penelope let out a giggle as she caught a glimpse of what she believed to be murder in Hyacinth’s eye.
A few minutes after that, Eloise had the brilliant idea of ice cream, confident that it would be a good additional remedy to Penelope’s broken heart. Penelope suggested that they had ice cream at her house, but Eloise shook her head and heroically stated that fresh pints of ice cream were of the utmost necessity, and that the local ice cream shop was only a fifteen- minute bike ride away. Penelope's heart lightened at the suggestion, knowing that Eloise was aware of the current gloomy state of the Featherington house, and that her mother had sent Penelope here to avoid it. Smiling, she started to push herself up from the patio to stand, only to be stopped by Eloise’s hand on her shoulder.
“No, stay here. I will go and get it.”
Before she could even protest, Eloise’s feet leaped from the patio and rushed towards her bike, pushing the kickstand up with her foot before saddling on the vehicle and pedaling off, body hovering slightly over the seat as she leaned forward and propelled herself towards the direction of the ice cream shop. Penelope could not do anything but stretch her smile wider.
She sat back down onto the patio and watched Gregory, who had now gotten himself halfway up a tree, look down at Hyacinth with slightly fear in his eyes, gripping the bark while she stood at the tree’s base with wicked grin, counting down the seconds before Gregory’s hands slip and he had nowhere to go but down. Penelope let herself snicker at that, adoring the predicament the siblings have found themselves in.
“Gregory refuses to give in but Hyacinth knows that, inevitably, she will win.” Penelope couldn’t help but jolt at the sudden voice beside her, eyes jumping upwards onto Colin, who looked down at her with a soft smile.
“Colin….” She whispered, gaze following him as he sat beside her, legs dangling over the ledge while hers were crossed. The gap between them was miniscule. His eyes were now following Gregory as he begged his feet and knees to propel him further up the trunk, his attempts held back by one of his arms gripping the Hyacinth’s teddy bear, which suspiciously, although being rough-housed all morning, did not dare touch the dirty bark.
“I give him five more minutes before he drops.” He whispered to her, using his arms to lean closer towards Penelope so neither younger Bridgerton would hear, although she doubted they were paying any attention to them.
“You doubt Hyacinth that much?”
“No, you’re right. I give him three.” He said before letting out a light chuckle, causing her to let out a laugh of her own, face scrunching up as the lightness of the conversation overtook her. It was immediate, Colin Bridgerton’s ability to brighten her day, and at this age, Penelope was past the point of awe. Even if the hurt that her father’s absence left was not going to subside soon, and she realistically doubts it would, she knew that a second with Colin Bridgerton would provide a bit of warmth. “....it sucks.”
Penelope gave a single nod.
“Yeah.”
“It’s super unfair., Pen”
She nodded and tried to suppress a whimper, her throat starting to tighten and upper cheeks begin to tense.
“Yeah,” She agreed, forcing her eyes to fall onto her lap, staring at the orange of her frock.
“But….” He started, pausing for a moment, allowing both Penelope and him to breathe. “It gets better, which I know is cliche and honestly,” he chuckled “shitty to say,” Penelope could feel the tips of Colin’s hair tickle her temple as he turned to look at her, and even while avoiding his gaze, she could sense a joking smile.
“Horrible. Quite heartless to the grieving, actually.” She jested, letting out a low giggle between them. Colin softly chuckled as well.
“Very, but it will. I promise you.” His voice became sincere, and Colin lowered his head so that he could catch Penelope’s eyes, staring at her with soft intent. “Everything will be well, Pen. When my father first passed,” He took a moment to take a breath. “It was hard to understand it all. Anthony was forced to take over all of the house affairs, meaning Benedict was the oldest-older brother, and Daphne, being naturally nurturing, comforted everyone else. Eloise and Francesca were far too young, and Gregroy was only a toddler. And, I, well,” He snickered to himself. “I played the role of jester.”
“Fitting.”
“Yes, well,” Colin playfully scoffed at Penelope’s poke, scrunching his face in false offense before continuing with a smile. “What can I say? But, nonetheless, it was difficult. We had our roles but none of us knew, really, what to do. How to react. How to…live, without father.” He swallowed gently.
Penelope actively tried to fight against the stinging she felt behind her eyes, the threat of floodgates breaking and her composure crumbling.
“But,” Penelope felt Colin’s shoulder press against her own, and her own arms relaxed. “We knew that, at this moment, we needed to rely on each other, and how we were all prepared to be relied upon. Even toddler-Gregory, who would hug Eloise softly when she was somber in her room, giving back any toys he had taken or giving her an open-mouthed kiss on the cheek, full of baby slobber.”
Penelope chuckled against the tightness in her throat, forcing her eyes to move from Colin to Gregory, who was now sat on the ground, watching Hyacinth who was dancing with her returned teddy bear, a loving smile on his face as he watched his younger sister’s movements.
“We had each other, Pen, and we were not shy to take each other’s comforts.” Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and Penelope felt herself being tucked sideways, her balance faltering as she fell right into Colin’s sturdy chest. “You have us, Pen.,”
A pause.
“You have me.”
She had already cried when she initially heard of her father’s passing, crying with her sisters, in her room alone, in Eloise’s arms when she had seeked Penelope out after the news was shared with the Bridgertons, all in painful distress. Her body convulsing with violent sobs as her brain was forced to propel into a life without her father, without a figure that had been so constant. She was in pain, and her body wanted release.
Now, as she felt herself choke out tears and shake with its effort, she did not feel distress, not pain, but…relief. Relief that, despite it all, she still had her family, and. as odd as it was, that she still had the Bridgertons, that she still had Eloise….
That she had Colin, with his strong arms and presence, holding her tight as she sobbed into his neck, tears staining the collar of his blue shirt.
She had never felt so cared for as Colin stroked the top of her hair, pressing her even tighter against his form. She never felt so safe, gripping the fabric of his trousers. She never felt so….warm.
She never felt so loved.
She loved him.
God, she was so naive.
“Not this time, Ed,” Penelope stated firmly, her face hardening in an instant as she forced her attention back onto the essay and cursed at herself as she finally gave in and opened thesaurus, beginning to scroll down the page for alternatives to the damned word. She was an english major, goddammit, she should have passed this.
But she wasn’t.
“Eloise is gonne be pouty,” Edwina playfully sulked, singing the phrase although her tone was dim, slightly defeated.
“She’ll get over it.” Penelope sighed, deflating in her seat as she switched back to her word document, entering the word “despite” and finally allowing herself to move on.
She needed to move on.